


Catapult

by witchmaidensworld



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cassandra Pentaghast's Disgusted Noises, Other, Post Haven, also language warning for the notes, and can you just imagine varric and iron bull getting into trouble together, but still knows when to call time out on shenanigans, but the rest of skyhold still needs set up, hence the argument, i live for cassandra and varric arguing, male inquisitor is hopelessly in love with cassandra, slight angst toward the middle, their banter is fantastic, they've already named inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchmaidensworld/pseuds/witchmaidensworld
Summary: It had been said there were only two reliable constants in life, death and taxes. Daevon wanted to immediately add another item to that list, bumping it’s number up to three. Set a dwarf and a woman against each other, both alike in stubbornness, and they’re bound to burn a city down.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast
Kudos: 5





	Catapult

**Author's Note:**

> I really do live for Cassandra and Varric banter and arguing. <3

The voices started out far off, too far to be actually categorized as an argument. Standing around the map spread out on a supply crate in the central courtyard of their newly found courtyard, Daevon Trevelyan was trying to locate a suitable path for their allies in the north to take instead of the well known road that would take literal months. Beside him, Cullen Rutherford cleared his throat.

A headache already spiking- gods even his bloody arm twitched in rhythm with the pain reverberating around his skull- Daevon looked up at the towering commander. Cullen had one exactly one fault; for all his military prowess and battle ferocity, he had absolutely no concept of a poker face. 

Currently, the former templar’s expression was a mix between indifference, and… Was Cullen actually trying not to laugh? Daevon followed Cullen’s gaze, headache sending a fresh round of pain through his head.

“For the love of…” 

It had been said there were only two reliable constants in life.

Death.

And taxes. 

Daevon wanted to immediately add another item to that list, bumping it’s number up to three. Set a dwarf and a woman against each other, both alike in stubbornness, and they’re bound to burn a city down. 

He could almost hear Dorian laughing at him now, quipping something along the lines of: You should really look into becoming a poet, or a playwright! The people would adore you.” 

Daevon straightened just as the participants of the argument came within earshot for the purpose of the disagreement to be discovered.

“I’m telling you, Cassandra, it’s a perfectly sound strategy!” Varric gestured broadly at the massive walls surround them on all sides. “You got to admit, the extra security would be helpful.”

“And how do you intend to construct all of these catapults, Varric?” Twice as height, Cassandra Pentaghast had to look down her nose at the dwarf, and she managed to do it with equal amounts displeasure and annoyance. Even in the midst of it, she still managed to look haughtily beautiful. 

“I told you already, I--”

“Have connections, yes. So I’ve heard. Except you have forgotten one teeny, tiny detail.”

Varric crossed his arms across his broad and exposed chest. “What’s that, Seeker?”

“Your connections aren’t here.” Cassandra bent nearly in half to poke the dwarf hard in the shoulder, hard enough to make him take a step back. Varric rubbed his arm, grimacing. He opened his mouth to continue the argument, but Daevon had heard enough already. He cleared his throat loudly, watching Josephine jump slightly from the corner of his eye. Varric swiveled his gaze up to the human man and had the decency to look somewhat apologetic. Cassandra, on the other hand, had turned a very interesting shade of red. 

“So this is about catapults, if I’m understanding?” Daevon looked between the two of them. Behind him, Cullen coughed rather loudly. 

“Varric is trying to suggest we organize all our resources and bodies into this insane project, which would leave the rest of Skyhold completely defenseless.”

“And I told you, Seeker, I have the people to get it done!” 

Daevon sighed sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Varric, why in the Maker’s name do you want to build catapults on the walls?”

“Well…” The dwarf shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I figured the walls were big enough to hold catapults plus the regular soldiers, so that way if Corypheus’ little friend showed back up…”

Oh. 

Daevon winced. So this was about what happened at Haven. He couldn’t blame the dwarf, he really couldn’t. They’d been lucky to escape with their lives, and their luck had extended so they found this fortress. 

“As helpful as catapults would be…” Varric’s expression faltered, but Daevon plunged ahead. “It’s not a priority when we still have so many wounded to tend to. But,” here he sighed, and glanced at Cassandra’s best disapproving glare. “I’ll add it to the list of our improvements.”

“Inquisitor, you are a godsend.” Grinning, Varric looked up at Cassandra in a smug I-told-you-so manner.

“I think it’s a great idea,” a new voice boomed, the tone a little too cheery given what had just been discussed. The pall of their defeat at Haven was still hanging heavy over every individual, and yet the Iron Bull carried himself with as much swagger and confidence as ever. His hulking shadow fell across the map as he came to stand between Cassandra and Varric. The Seeker turned away with a grunt of disgust, which just made the Qunari chuckle.

“Think what we could do with those catapults, eh boss? Hey, we could even put Tethras in one with that fancy crossbow of his. Death from above!”

Varric laughed, full and loud. “I like the way you think, Tiny.” 

Daevon could swear he felt several blood vessels burst simultaneously. 

Dear Maker, preserve us all.

He was so very thankful neither Varric or the Iron Bull had been given seats on the war council, otherwise he was very sure his hair would turn prematurely white.

**Author's Note:**

> Varric: *sitting in catapult basket*
> 
> Daevon: Don't you dare--
> 
> Iron Bull: *pulls lever*
> 
> Varric: Death from above, motherfuckers!


End file.
